


Stories Of The Buried

by lonesomehunter (decimare0), simplygrimly



Series: Terror In Tennessee [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Multi, Whump, lady whump, past victims
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decimare0/pseuds/lonesomehunter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplygrimly/pseuds/simplygrimly
Summary: Stories of the innocent souls that were lost to the demons in the Appalachian Mountains.This series is a collection of flashbacks featuring character's from Lonesomehunter'sThe Devil's Highwayand Simplygrimly'sHershey's Kisses.
Series: Terror In Tennessee [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058315
Kudos: 2





	1. If The Fates Allow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turtledove asks Josiah for a special gift.
> 
> **Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, suicidal ideations, thoughts of death, begging to die, reference to past murder, hanging mention, kidnapping mention, lady whump, multiple whumpees, stitches, blood, possessive whumper**
> 
> Soundtrack: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland

Christmas Eve 2003

Six months after her husband’s death, Claire Addams decided she was ready to die. She floated through those months in the jaws of Hell the best she could. Taming the beast inside of her captor day by day. Keeping him as calm as possible with her soothing presence and gentle touch that seemed to calm Josiah’s worst demons.

Everyday she carried on as best she could with a piece of her heart now missing, ripped from her chest on that hot day as she watched her husband’s body sway in the warm summer breeze. 

Josiah tried to make her happy in his way once he noticed her spirit growing dimmer and dimmer with the passing months, even going as far as kidnapping another poor soul to keep her company. A frightened young woman named Beth who Josiah would baptise as Honeybee, effectively stripping her identity away. 

By Christmas time the trio had settled into a routine with Honeybee finally coming to realize this is her new home after two months of fighting it. Josiah surprised them that Christmas Eve morning with a fresh cut pine tree still damp with snow. “I thought maybe we could have a proper tree. Mamas plastic tree is all moth eaten now. But there’s a box of lights and some old ornaments in the attic. Would y'all like to decorate together?" 

Honeybee didn’t look up from her breakfast, the stitches on her lip made eating an ordeal. Blood flavored her scrambled eggs that morning. "That would be nice Josiah.” Turtledove squeezed the still girl’s hand. “Right Honeybee?” The woman looked despondent but forced a smile that made her stitches tear even more.

"Yes. Very nice.“ She felt the tears coming and quickly hid her face in her thick wavy auburn locks, praying Josiah didn’t see. Tears were not allowed at the breakfast table.

Later that evening they set about decorating the tree. The basement smelled of burning firewood and fresh pine, the roaring fire kept the frigid basement draft at bay. Josiah strung up the multicolored bulbs while the girls carefully unwrapped each vintage ornament and placed them on the tree once Josiah was satisfied with the way the lights looked.

“Honey why don’t you start threading the popcorn garland and I’ll be right back to help you finish. Ok?” The younger woman gave her the same worried nod she always gave whenever Claire went off alone with Josiah.

Claire met Josiah at the front window with a mug of hot chocolate for him, a dollop of whipped cream on top. The pair stood silently and watched the snow quietly pile on top of the tall, white blanket of the previous day’s snowfall.

“I need to go home to Ben.” Before he could speak, Claire silenced him with the light press of her fingers to his lips. He lets her continue without a fuss while she turns her attention back to the falling snow. The only sound was the low howl of the winter wind blowing through the pines surrounding them. Josiah was almost certain she could hear his heart pounding in his chest. 

“You took a piece of me away, Josiah. If you really care for me you’ll set me free. Make me whole again.”

He turned and stared at her completely stunned, unable to string together the words to say how he was absolutely not doing that. She was _his_ light. _His_ angel. _His_ Turtledove. How could he send her home? How could he face being alone again? 

Her warm brown eyes never leave the flurries falling from the sky. 

“I’m ready to die, Josiah.” She said softly, two rivers of tears falling like a steady stream down her face. Claire takes his hand in both of hers and holds them up to her heart, willing him to let her go. 

“It’s time for you to set me free.”


	2. "He's gonna eat me alive.."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Command Prompt: "Turtledove ▶️ tell Honeybee it’ll be okay when you’re gone...
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: mentions of lady whump, sadistic whumper, grieving whumper, implied thoughts of death**

This rare night of peace is the first time the women have been alone together in over a week. They waited patiently for any chance to be alone and be able to speak without fear, not in interrupted whispers. Josiah had let Turtledove’s morbid Christmas wish slip in a fit of rage he directed at the two women over Mama’s things. Turtledove had dared to mention moving her things out of her bedroom so he can start to have some sort of closure. So he can begin to heal.

Honeybee wasn’t supposed to know the truth. Turtledove tried her best to spare the young woman that pain but Josiah’s temper was a fire that was close to burning out of control despite her best efforts to keep it contained. 

Now the two women lay huddled together under the warmest quilt Turtledove could find in the attic. Josiah was still out fiddling with the old broken jukebox in the garage, he’d sent the shivering women to bed early. He’d wanted to be alone anyway, he said.

“I want you to listen to me, babygirl.” Honeybee had already turned away from her. She wanted to hide the angry tears that wouldn’t stop pouring from her eyes. “You are going to be okay when I’m gone. I’ll make sure of it.” Even through her anger, all she can think is how much Turtledove smelled like the molasses cookies she baked hours earlier. The sickly sweet scent lingered in her dark brown curls. Who will bake her cookies to cheer her up when she’s homesick? Who will brush the tangles out of her hair once the dried blood’s been washed from it?

Honeybee let the words hang between them for a moment while she steadied herself. Her emotions threatened to burst above the quiet whisper of their secret conversation. She couldn’t fathom this place without her. Her protector. Her friend. The only person standing between her and the darkness in her captor’s soul.

“He’s gonna eat me alive once you’re gone....and in your heart you know it.” Honeybee’s voice quivered as she spoke, unraveling from the inside because she knows Claire has already made up her mind. The thin semblance of order will be gone. The beast will be free to terrorize her to his heart's content until he gets bored with her.

“You’re leaving me behind to fend off wolves all alone.”


	3. Broken Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herschel Boone has some fun with Honey Bee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This flashback takes place roughly 17 years ago.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Intimate whumper, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper, baseball bat, hit with a bat, broken bones, collared, forced to be nude, leashed, tethered, tied to anchor, broken wrist

The vinyl cord snapped tight against the anchor twisted into the grass as Honeybee tried to move out of Herschel’s reach. The red plastic coating shone in the sun as she pulled hard against the collar, determined to put as much space between them as possible. Herschel grinned at her and took another step, enjoying the way she instinctively stepped away from him despite only being able to go in a small circle at the edge of the cord’s reach. He twirled the wooden baseball bat, the playfulness of the gesture mismatched with the way he pinned her under the intense focus of his bright blue eyes.

Honeybee yelped as he took a wide swing at her, practically leaping away from the swift rush of the wood through the air as Herschel followed her movement. His eyes sparkled with barely restrained amusement as she pulled against the cord that anchored her a few feet away from him, biding his time for the perfect moment to demonstrate how close to her he actually was. They both knew that she couldn’t get far enough away from him to escape his reach, especially with the few feet that the bat added. It was a game of cat and mouse, and they both knew which roles they filled and who would inevitably win. 

She tip-toed at the edge of the circle of space she had been allowed, her eyes flicked from the bat to his face and back as she tried to predict when he would lunge towards her again. The collar chafed at her neck as it rubbed her skin, the vinyl lead forced the rough leather to spin around her soft skin as she pulled against the vinyl in order to try and widen the circle that she was allotted. 

Herschel swung again, lazily holding the bat in one hand despite how much weaker it made the movement, and she knew that he was taunting her. Honeybee trembled at the way his eyes tracked her. They crawled down her naked body with an ease that scared her more than the bat that he continued to tease and threaten her with. She followed the line of the wood to his wrist and up his forearm, stared for a moment at the way his lean forearms tensed and loosened in an easy rhythm as he continued to let the bat sway back and forth in a slow, casual movement. She flinched at the twitch of muscle, cowered for a moment at the swing that never came, eliciting a sharp laugh from Herschel. 

She didn’t stop moving, too afraid of what Herschel would do if she stood still for even a moment, but was unable to tear her eyes from him. Anticipation roiled in the pit of her stomach, setting her nerves on edge and making it difficult for her to keep her mind sharp and focused. The breeze was a sharp reminder of how exposed Honeybee was, goosebumps skipped over her skin as she thought of how much of her body he could see with every step she took to avoid him. 

Sharp pain laced through her foot and Honeybee tumbled to the ground with a yelp of pain. She instinctively cradled her foot and leaned forward to look for the cause of the pain, forgetting for a moment that Herschel was still prowling dangerously close to her. She realized her mistake too late and he pounced before she could move to avoid him. 

The heavy maple baseball bat met Honeybee’s arm with a stomach churning crunch and Honeybee choked on a scream as pain shot through her wrist and her fingers instantly went numb. She scrambled away from him, the vinyl cording snapping taut as she pulled against the end of her lead and struggled to find somewhere that was safe from Herschel’s menacing grin. Terror flooded her system and she reached for the collar in a panic, she clawed at her neck as she tried to find the hook for the cord. Herschel closed the distance too quickly and swung again, cracking the bat against the same arm that he had already damaged. The bones shifted and Honeybee sobbed against the collar, her mind was overwhelmed with pain and her vision went fuzzy, making it impossible to tell exactly where Herschel stood. 

He swung one more time and the bat crushed against her arm with a soft thud that told them both her wrist was completely broken. Honeybee gagged at the end of a shrill scream that left her throat hoarse and her breath ragged, nausea washed over her as she felt the strange weight of her hand tilted at a wrong angle as she moved to cradle it against her chest. 

Josiah’s voice was almost welcome in the haze of pain and fear, his question as to what Herschel had done swam in circles in her mind. Herschel laughed as she rolled onto her back, said something about cleaning up a mess, and Honeybee welcomed the way the world faded to nothing and her body went limp before her mind disconnected her from her body entirely. 


	4. “Prettier when ya ain’t talkin’..”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Command Prompt: "Cheyenne ▶️ Make Honeybee look pretty." Written by SimplyGrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: mouth gore, mouth stitched shut, tied with rope, captivity whump, lady whump, Cheyenne Boone**

Cheyenne grinned ruthlessly as she surveyed her prey. 

Tears streamed down her captives face, mingling with the blood that dripped from her nose and the fresh stitches that ran through her lips and forced her mouth shut. Wisps of her red hair fell into her face, sticking to her skin as it dried in the streaks of blood and sweat. 

Honeybee stared at Cheyenne, the defiance quickly draining from her eyes as the blonde trailed her fingers over the course ropes wound too tightly around her wrists. Her lips burned where the embroidery needle had pulled the course, unforgiving string through her lips. She could feel it rubbing against her gums, wicking the moisture away and leaving her mouth dry and uncomfortable. 

Cheyenne watched as Honeybee tried to swallow, her jaw working carefully against the stitches so that they didn’t rip through her skin. 

“Well ain’t’cha just the prettiest little thing I ever saw?” 

Honeybee took a slow breath through her nose, struggling not to panic as she became more and more aware of the pain radiating around her mouth. 

Cheyenne trailed a finger down her cheek, touching her so softly that Honeybee flinched away from the unfamiliar sensation. “Prettier when ya ain’t talkin’ though.” 

She looked at her for a moment, taking in the sight of the young moment bound and helpless and completely at her mercy. 

“Somethin’s missin’ though…” 

Cheyenne narrowed her eyes as she looked at her, studying all the little details that she loved so much as she tried to put her finger on it. Her smile grew a little wider at the subtle tremor that moved over Honeybee’s body, the little show of fear that she couldn’t hide no matter how willful and stubborn she was. 

Cheyenne snapped her fingers suddenly, delighting in Honeybee’s startled jump before she cringed away. “I got it! You just wait right here, I’ve got somethin’ that’ll make ya prettier ‘an a picture!”

She disappeared from Honeybee’s sight for a moment, looking for whatever it was that she thought would finish off the moment. She came back with a vicious grin, teeth bared in a beautifully threatening smile as she she bent down and lifted Honeybee’s chin. 

She pressed a tube of lipstick to her lips, carefully spreading a bright red over her skin, undeterred by how it snagged on the stitches and made Honeybee whimper in pain. She layered on the cherry red and tossed the tub aside before pressing a hard kiss to her lips, wrapping her fingers around her throat to flex the control they both knew she had. 

With a final squeeze and a nip to Honeybee’s lips, Cheyenne stood back up and reached for the polaroid camera, still smiling down at the pretty captive tied to the old wood chair. 

She snapped a photo and snatched the polaroid from the old, beaten down camera, snapping it through the air impatiently as the picture developed.


	5. Sit Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Texas Red learns a new trick.
> 
> _Content warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, withheld food, starvation, child abuse mention, drug abuse, dehumanization, captivity, multiple whumpees, humiliation, whumpee acting as whumper, begging, punishment, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, brief broken bone mention, referenced environmental whump_

On the sixth day Josiah won.

He’d gotten what he wanted from him in the end. Tex’s resolve against the man was getting weaker by the day. Too tired to keep fighting.

And after a few weeks. Too hungry.

Josiah forced him into the corner of the bedroom. The punishment corner. A timeout for back talking he said. But he had to stay on one foot with his arms stretched out on either side. Josiah said he looked like an old timey airplane on a windy day.

“Mama would make me stand there for an entire day just like that when I was acting a fool. You better keep them arms up if you don’t wanna be there longer ‘en that.”

Standing up was hard enough. The room felt like it was spinning around him as the hunger ate its way through his stomach. Every ounce of his focus and energy on keeping his arms raised.

A loud crunch breaks his concentration and he sways slightly, righting himself before Josiah sees when he looks away from his movie again. The man is lounging comfortably on the bed with his back propped up against a wall of pillows, occasionally popping a pork rind into his mouth. The smell of which made Tex wish he had something in his stomach to barf up. 

Goldie doesn’t seem to be bothered down in his usual spot wrapped up in Josiah’s legs, the cockroach was in a sleepy haze with a look of pure contentment plastered on his face. Sky blue eyes half lidded and staring at James Cagney shooting a tommy gun and making threats while idly tracing little figure eights into Josiah’s blonde leg hair. Satisfied that he pleased his master and tattled on them having a venting session in the basement. He ratted on them any chance he got if it meant Josiah would feed his addiction with illicit rewards. No crime or infraction too small. Tex got a broken nose just for rolling his eyes behind Josiah’s back once and Goldie happened to see. 

Tex wonders how the big man is holding up chained up outside in the freezing rain. He wasn’t given the chance to plead his case before being dragged to the oak tree and chained by the neck to it like a neglected hound dog. Big Boy spent most of his time in the literal dog house these days. Josiah says it’s to “break the mutt of some bad habits”. Black Jack takes up Big Boy’s usual spot on the floor beside the bed on the black flannel dog bed, his jet black fur makes him blend right into the fabric.

“Hey.” 

Josiah’s high pitched whistle breaks through his fog and he looks down to see two sets of eyes watching him. 

“When was the last time I fed ya?” Josiah mutes the television.

“I’m not..It’s been. It’s been more than five days…I think.”

It was so hard to remember anything. He remembers fixing two plates, one for Goldie and one for Josiah, opening a can of wet dog food for Big Boy and having one buttered dinner roll for himself. He had to ask for permission to use the butter. 

“Ya want one o’ these?” Josiah waved the pork rind around before tossing it into his mouth.

He didn’t really. Tex had been raised vegetarian and the idea of consuming something that smelled like a pig’s anus made him want to dry heave the empty contents of his stomach.

But he was _starving._

Anything would be better than the pain of hunger.

“Yes please.” He waited for the signal to move, not daring to change his position without being given permission. 

“Well get on over here then.”

Tex steps towards the bed before Josiah puts up a hand signalling him to stop. “Ah-ah. You gotta get down and crawl for it.”

Tex swallows and drops to his knees, wincing at the impact on the bruises that covers his bare legs. His face burns with shame as he crawls on his hands and knees towards the side of the bed. Josiah is looking down at him with a sinful smile, obviously pleased at the fight in Tex growing dimmer with each humiliation. 

He would have told Josiah to go fuck himself weeks ago if he commanded him to do this then. The man he was when he arrived here would have rather died than bow down to anyone.

Things change. And he’s just way too hungry for pride anymore.

“Josie, why don’t you have him sit pretty for us?”

Tex shoots Goldie a look of unadulterated hatred, when their eyes meet he sees the blond man’s large and dilated pupils that are barely staying open. “You know I used to raise puppies with my mom. Taught them all kinds of tricks before people came to adopt them. My favorite trick was ‘sit pretty’.”

Tex bites his tongue so hard he thinks he could bite it in two right now to keep from getting himself in even more trouble by giving the little shit a piece of his mind. Goldie loves to feed into the games Josiah plays. Anything to stay on his good side and get his “treats”.

“Nobody asked you shithead.” He can’t help himself. 

Josiah slaps the redhead so hard the vision in his left eye blurs. It was hard enough seeing without his glasses, within his reach on the side table where his abuser can keep a watchful eye on them. And keep him in his control.

Tex puts his hands up apologetically, hoping he hadn’t blown his chance at getting just a taste of food. _Any food._

“I misspoke! I’m sorry. Please give me another chance.”

“That’s it! You almost have it!” Goldie hops off the bed in a substance induced bout of mania and helps Tex get into the proper position. “Just sit straight up on your heels. Paws up! Good boy.” Josiah chuckles at the pair, at the obvious battle going on inside Tex’s head. 

He fights the urge to knock the teeth out of the doped up blonde man as he lifts Tex’s chin to be perpendicular with his body. The perfect form.

“There. Nice and pretty. Now hold.” Goldie slinks back into his spot on the bed. A content pussycat between Josiah’s legs. “Now you have to give him a treat!”

Josiah dangles the pork rind above his head, a thrill runs through him as he watches Tex’s desperate eyes follow the meat flavored chip that’s just out of his reach. Finally letting the man take the treat from his hand and patting his head affectionately. “You want ‘nother one, boy?”

“Yes please.” Josiah is satisfied with his performance and feeds him more chips from his fingertips, forcing Tex to suck each one clean of the pork rind dust coating them.

Josiah scratched behind Tex’s ear as he would Black Jack, elbowing Goldie in the side to get his attention before he drifted into space again. 

“Why don’t we see what other tricks the doggy can do?"


	6. Cataglottism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Boy fights to keep from waking the beast across the campfire.
> 
> **content warnings: noncon kissing, noncon touching, strangulation, captivity, slight dehumanization, restrained, brief gun mention, threats of violence, sleep deprivation, blood, thoughts of death, threat of murder**

“Hush now.” Josiah whispers against Big Boy’s parted kiss bitten lips. An unrelenting grip in his hair pulls his head back, giving the large hillbilly easy access to the helpless man’s lips. Tree bark of the downed tree he’s leaning against presses the rope painfully into the raw wounds around his wrists that never seemed to heal. His captor pulls him in closer and invades his mouth again, tightening his grip in the boy’s hair when he feels even the slightest struggle from him. Big Boy had spent the last ten minutes in Josiah’s arms quietly begging him to stop and allow him the sleep he was promised for being a good mutt.

“You know what will happen if he wakes up don’t ya?” Big Boy nods, the flames flicker in his weary eyes as they scan the blonde, bearded dragon asleep on the other side of the campfire. The three men had risen with the sun and spent the whole day hunting in the deep woods and were settled in to camp for the night. 

“He gets real grouchy if he don’t get all his beauty sleep,” Josiah says before he leans in close to his prey, looking ready to devour him whole. Big Boy fights the urge to scream as Josiah’s tongue forces its way into his mouth again, the threat of more violence at Herschel’s hands is enough to keep him silent. The pain in his belly still throbs from the impact from the butt of Herschel’s rifle earlier in the day, the younger Boone unhappy with the way Big Boy was slowing them down while he struggled to carry their over packed duffle. 

"Stop. Pl-Please stop,” he says softly after Josiah breaks away, trailing kisses down his neck while disregarding the plea for mercy. Big Boy barely bites back a whine at the sudden feeling of Josiah’s palm rubbing against his jeans. The unwelcomed touch makes his aching stomach churn. Herschel stirs across the roaring fire, mumbling something while shifting to his stomach and settling back into sleep. 

Josiah leans back in and kisses the pinned man passionately, loosening the grip in his hair. An unexpected sharp pain on his bottom lip catches Big Boy off guard and he pulls away from his captor, the taste of copper and cigarettes are left behind on his tongue. “Fuck!” He shouts before freezing up in a panic, eyes darting over to the sleeping dragon. Already awake and glaring at him with that icy stare that followed him into his nightmares.

Herschel flies to his feet and is on him in seconds. Wrapping his forearm around the bound man’s throat and squeezing savagely. Big Boy tries to beg but the words come out in choked gasps. Josiah throws his legs over Big Boy’s as he starts to thrash wildly, the terror setting in as time starts to slow down to a standstill.

Josiah starts to become a blur in front of him when Herschel increases the pressure on his windpipe. The image of the red headed devil drinking in his final moments with a depraved smile on his face will be the very last thing he sees on this earth. “Go on and kill ‘im but yer the one diggin’ that hole. It ain’t gonna be me.” He can hear Josiah’s hearty chuckle as his vision starts to black out. 

Herschel’s rage boils down to a simmer and he releases his hold, pushing Big Boy forward roughly as his burning lungs desperately take in oxygen. “Keep your mutt quiet,” he says gruffly while returning to his spot by the fire, curling up on his side facing away from them. Big Boy’s chest burns as he tries to quietly catch his breath, only getting deep enough breaths once he hears Herschel’s faint snores.

Josiah lays down, pulling Big Boy on top of him and guiding his head to his chest. Almost like they were lovers by a campfire. Josiah sighs contentedly and tightens his embrace around the restrained man who is silently weeping, cursing the bastard for not finishing the job.


	7. “Last Chance, Mutt”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNING: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT! Noncon, extremely dubcon, threats of noncon, threats with knives, threats of violence, forced noncon between victims, forced dubcon between victims, human slavery, trauma bonding, intense feelings of guilt, guilt at forgiveness, traumatic emotional distress, numbness after trauma, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, violent whumper, lady whump**
> 
> [RECORD: Goodnight, Good Heart by Bubba](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0HR-aX8PRQ4&ab_channel=MyBubba%26Mi-Topic)   
>  [Hershey's Kisses Soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5PHkmkjskQVWFrZEcqijCc?si=TJS1J-zWRfK52PqYc4Nt-Q)

The woods were quiet, unnaturally lacking the noise normally created by the wildlife that usually filled the trees and the underbrush. But the stillness that seemed to follow Herschel and Josiah was almost surreal as Annie looked into the trees for any signs of life. It seemed that the wildlife could sense the evil that walked slowly through their little world, that they had the good sense to hide lest the cousins find a way to subject another innocent soul to their whims. She trailed behind Herschel, careful to stay nearby but wary of getting close enough to be in arms reach, all too familiar with how quickly his moods changed and how suddenly his focus would turn to making sure she was miserable.

Despite Josiah’s place at the front of the group, Big Boy walked at the far back behind Annie. He watched her with sharp eyes, occasionally holding a hand out to her to help her climb over felled trees or make her way down steeper parts of the path. When she hesitated at the freezing stream, her eyes going wide as Josiah and Herschel walked through the knee deep water without hesitation, Big Boy simply lifted her in his arms, balancing the weight of the pack on his back with her slight frame against his chest, and carried her to the other side, setting her down gently on the dry ground.

She couldn’t help but notice the furrow to Herschel’s brow as he glanced back at them, his eyes cut through the comfort of Big Boy’s kindness like a razor. But the more she tried to make herself smaller in an effort to draw less attention to herself, the more Big Boy seemed to take pity on her. Each small act of kindness earned her a withering glance from Herschel, the dread that she felt in the face of his disapproval only matched by the uncertainty that his silence fueled in the pit of her stomach.

When the sun finally began to set, hovering over the crest of the mountain as a chill settled in the air around them, Josiah and Herschel found a spot they both liked to make camp. Annie sat to the side and watched the men, only moving to offer assistance when Herschel set up the campfire stove and demanded Big Boy pull food from the pack he had been shouldering for them. She cooked dinner in silence, grateful for the lack of attention as she focused on searing the fish that they had caught earlier that day, eager to finish so that she could lay down to sleep.

A familiar feeling of satisfaction tingled in her hands as she watched them eat, focused for a moment on the familiar feeling of a successful family dinner, ignoring the sad thought that lingered in the back of her mind reminding her that she’d never feed her family that way again. Herschel caught her gaze and said a soft thank you, his eyes kind and grateful for a moment before he turned back to Josiah and the wolfish smile returned to his face. It was enough to ease the anxiety in Songbird’s stomach, his brief moment of approval all the reassurance that she needed that she wouldn’t be left lifeless in the woods when the trip was over.

She took the thin blanket Herschel had laid aside for her and curled up off to the side, close enough to stay in the warm orange ring of light from the fire but far enough away that Herschel and Josiah would have to physically move to reach her, giving her ample warning if their moods shifted at some point during the night. She woefully underestimated the power of the cold air, shivering as she fell into a restless sleep with the blanket pulled up under her chin and her body curled into a tight ball.

Big Boy glanced at her, his face pulled into a grimace as he looked pleadingly to Herschel. They all knew that she would freeze if he didn’t give her at least another blanket, but Herschel pointedly ignored him and Big Boy knew better than to ask Josiah for anything when he wasn’t sure of what price he’d pay. He set his jaw and moved closer to Annie, watching the two men by the fire cautiously. When neither made a move to stop him, Big Boy laid down behind Annie and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her in order to transfer as much of his body heat to her as possible. 

It wasn’t long before Josiah grinned and nudged Herschel’s foot with his own. The both looked over at the pair, the family resemblance uncanny as their expressions took on the same predatory look that sent a chill down Big Boy’s spine. “It looks like my mutt made friends with your little bird, cuz,” Josiah’s voice had a dangerous edge and Big Boy cringed a little as he spat on the ground. His hungry eyes never left his prey, like a hawk staring down a field mouse before it swooped in with bared talons.

Herschel threw an empty beer can at them, the aluminum bounced off Big Boy’s shoulder and rolled into the darkness with an ominously out of place metallic sound. “I don’ give a shit. If he likes ‘er so much he can have ‘er, don’ matter to me none.” He cast one more dangerous glance in their direction and smiled at Josiah, “She’s yours for the night, cuz. Break ‘er in a little for me. She’s been spoiled today anyway.”

Josiah nodded and stared into the fire, the orange and yellow light cast baleful shadows over his face that made Big Boy’s stomach churn with fear. He pulled Annie closer, hoping that he could somehow shield her from whatever wicked thoughts Josiah was having as he watched the flames jump and stretch from the makeshift stone fire pit. The vibrant hues of heat and hunger reflected greedily in his eyes, prompting Big Boy to look away from Josiah and tuck his face into Annie’s curls, grateful for even a moment of distraction from the distinct suspicion that Josiah was literally the devil incarnate and he was the unfortunate soul who had earned his ire. 

She moved gently against him and he tightened his arms around her, afraid of what would happen if she moved from her place on the ground beside him as she pulled herself out of her sleepy haze. The small sound that slipped from her lips as she slowly registered his grip on her torso made Big Boy’s stomach clench as he glanced at Josiah, unable to miss the way the redhead perked up and his grin widened.

“Bring her over here, Big Boy. I wanna get a closer look at my new toy.” He rubbed his hands together, licking his lips with a dangerous grin. Big Boy didn’t move, his grip on Annie’s significantly smaller frame iron clad as his mouth went dry at the thought of Josiah’s dirt stained hands touching her. He suppressed a shiver as Josiah narrowed his bright green eyes at him, he was all too aware of how thin the man’s patience was but he wasn’t willing to hand Annie over to him. If there was anything Big Boy knew without a doubt, it was that Josiah had no limits to his brutality and he feared that he would break Annie in a way that was impossible to repair.

“I’m not playin’ mutt,” Josiah growled at him, his voice mingling with the crackling of the fire as it slithered across the campsite like a poisonous snake. Big Boy didn’t move, electing instead to ask Josiah for mercy with a pointed glance back to Annie.

She shifted slightly against him, awake enough to turn over and look from Josiah to Herschel as realization dawned on her and she tensed in his arms. The red head laced his fingers together and leaned forward, the warm glow of the campfire cast a sinister glow over the slow curl of his lips. “Alright mutt, you’ve been good today. Maybe you should get a treat, yeah?”

Big Boy frowned, leery of the sudden change in Josiah’s voice, skeptical of the hint of kindness that flowed like the promise of a snake oil salesman. His fist closed around Annie’s shirt, gripping the fabric at her waist tightly as he braced himself for whatever horrifying idea had come to Josiah’s mind. His eyes flicked to Herschel, for a moment almost hopeful that he would be possessive enough of Annie to put a stop to whatever was about to happen, but the flickering light of the fire broke through the shadows cast over his features just long enough for Big Boy to see the cool detachment and sadistic curiosity that played across his face. 

“I think,” Josiah paused as he ran his hand through his hair, his lips quirked in an almost playful smirk, “that you deserve to get the first bite of her tonight. How’s that sound, mutt?” Big Boy’s stomach dropped and bile rose in the back of his throat upon realizing that his attempts to protect Annie had only forced him to be the one to harm her. His eyes widened and Josiah’s grin stretched over his face, taking on an almost maniacal cheshire cat quality that did nothing to ease Big Boy’s worries as Annie lay frozen with fear against his chest. “You know what I want boy, best get to it before I decide to do it myself.”

Annie moved to try to sit up, panic finally setting in and triggering her instinct to get away from the much larger man holding her. But Big Boy’s grip didn’t loosen and he kept her pinned in place with his arm, pressing just enough of his weight into her torso that she couldn’t do more than prop herself up on her forearms. The light of the fire danced across her chest but didn’t quite reach her face, the dread that had crept into her features hidden by the ominous darkness that he settled into the woods around them. Big Boy thanked God for the shadows, sure that Annie had been touched by grace itself as the moonless sky hid her fear from Josiah’s voracious gaze. 

Josiah’s eyes didn’t leave Big Boy’s, their gazes connected for long moments that only sunk Big Boy deeper into the darkness of his mind. They only broke eye contact when Josiah pulled his pocket knife out and flipped it open, he held it loosely in his hand, almost nonchalantly, but kept the blade pointed at Annie in a silent message designed to drive his point home. “Last chance, mutt. You know what happens when I lose my patience, I bet she’s not as durable as you are.”

Annie’s breath caught in her throat, the veiled threat was enough to make her lungs stutter as she felt the tears pool in her eyes. She looked up at Big Boy, taking in the fearful defiance that clung to the lines of his face as he stared back at Josiah. She looked to Herschel and searched for any hints of kindness, any of the prior indications of compassion that he had shown her in her time with him, but she was met with expressionless eyes. For the first time since meeting the Boone Clan, for the first time in her life, Annie felt hopeless. The dangerous glimmer in Josiah’s eyes settled over her like a weighted blanket and she gave herself over the inevitable. A tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a cold line down her skin where the night air seemed to dig into her nerves, and she released a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

Her hand shook as she reached up and softly pressed her palm to Big Boy’s cheek, gently coaxing him to look away from Josiah and down at her. His brow furrowed as he took in the shine of tears on her cheeks, his hand curled into a tighter fist in her shirt as she caressed his jaw softly. Her lips parted slowly as she tried to reassure him, but her words were lost on a sob and Annie rested her forehead on his chest in an effort to steady herself. When she looked back up, her heart twisted to see that his eyes were filled with tears to match her own. 

Annie closed her eyes and softly moved her hand down to the side of his throat, she rested her palm against his pulse and focused on the strength of his heartbeat as she silently begged God for the strength she needed to get through the unavoidable detour into hell. “It’s okay,” she breathed into the night air. Big Boy frowned and shook his head slightly, but Annie felt compassion surge within her like the heat from the campfire and she gave him a short nod and a reassuring smile. “It is, it’s okay. I know that you don’t have a choice, neither of us want the alternative.”

Big Boy hung his head in shame, unable to argue with the encouragement in her whispered sentiments. He wanted to resist, he wanted to keep her safe from whatever harm lurked in the woods - even if that harm was borne of Josiah and Herschel’s wickedness. He leaned into her hand, seeking solace in the soothing affection she offered him, and he slowly looked back into her eyes. Annie nodded slowly, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to prevent the feelings of guilt and shame but she hoped that she could ease the impact that they would have on his already weary soul. 

He sighed in defeat and released his grip on her shirt, he took one last moment to look deeper into her eyes, as if confirming that she was aware of how much worse it would be if he continued to refuse Josiah. He needed to be sure, he needed her to be sure, even though he knew that uncertainty wouldn’t matter to Josiah and Herschel. 

“That’s real fuckin’ sweet,” Herschel’s voice cut through the connection between the two of them, his tone sharper than the knife in Josiah’s hands as it forced them back to the reality of their situation. “But I’m gettin’ sick of watching the little love fest. If you can’t reign your dog in then I’ll have some fun myself, cuz.” 

Josiah laughed and shot Big Boy a grin that chilled him to his core. He could have sworn that the demon that lived deep in Josiah’s core flashed in his eyes, the green irises darkened dangerously and seemed to soak up the yellow glow of the flames. The malice that radiated off the cousins cut deeper than any hunting knife, flaying the pair of victims open on the cold ground as their hearts raced in matching rhythms and their breath mingled in terrified bursts of heat on the cold night air. 

Big Boy wrapped his hand around her wrist and he ignored her sharp cry of surprise as he forced her arm over her body to manipulate Annie onto her stomach. He had always been aware of how small she was compared to him, but as he used his body to pin her to the dirt Big Boy couldn’t help but feel like a child holding a newborn kitten too tightly. Annie had always felt small, but suddenly she felt fragile as he pressed his weight into her back. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tugged her pants down just far enough, hoping to preserve some shred of her dignity even as he stole a piece of her soul. 

Annie whimpered softly and clenched her hands into fists, clinging desperately to the knowledge that whatever Josiah would do to her would be ten times worse. The cold air hit the skin of her hips and she froze, paralyzed beneath him despite the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in her head. Every shift of his body on top of her was like the second hand moving on a clock, bringing her closer and closer to the moment that she knew would break her beyond repair. 

With a quiet grunt and a hard thrust, Annie felt him push into her, felt him invade her like a kudzu vine stealing life from everything in its path. She gasped and stiffened, involuntarily biting down on the sharp sensation until her teeth cut into her bottom lip. Big Boy pulled her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head as her instincts kicked in and she struggled against him, his hips pushed hard into her backside as he used his body weight to keep her beneath him. She closed her eyes against the sensation, her thoughts raced in quick circles as she prayed for the intrusion, the invasion, to be quick and easy. 

Big Boy grimaced as she pulled feebly against him, he had resolved to be still for a moment in an effort to let her body adjust but Annie quickly spiraled into panic as he pressed deeper and deeper into her. She choked on a sob, resting her forehead on the hard ground as she clenched her small hands into fists. He clenched his jaw, overwhelmed with disgust and self pity as laughter from the cousins cut through his attempts to be gentle with her. 

“There ya go mutt,” Josiah’s voice grated across the air with unfettered delight. “I bet it feels good to get your dick wet, ‘ey boy?” 

Big Boy shuddered, a fresh wave of self loathing rolled over him and settled in his stomach. He leaned harder into Annie as he braced against the nausea, taking just a moment of comfort from her presence even as he violated her so callously. 

Annie visibly recoiled at the sound of Herschel’s low chuckle, curling into herself as much as she could in her pinned position. “He’s takin’ his time cuz, he might like ‘er more than you.” The deceptively good natured tone of the joke jolted Big Boy back to the task at hand, his mind flooded with images of what Josiah could possibly do with the hunting knife if he decided to play his game with Annie and sent a sharp streak of panic through him.

He forced himself to ignore her low moan of pain as he moved inside of her, forcing himself deeper with a hard thrust that shoved her forward in the dirt. He hated Josiah, hated Herschel, even hated himself in that moment. A part of him even hated Annie; hated her for being so small and easy to pin in place, hated her for being so soft and delicate, hated her for being so appealing to the cousins. Big Boy clung to that hate, clung to the irrational anger that layered over his thoughts like a thick fog, he focused on the burn in his chest as he moved quickly and mercilessly inside her. The care he had taken in the beginning was gone, he no longer hoped to spare her the pain that he so often felt, he lost the desire to shield her from the agony that he knew came with such a violent intrusion. His only thought was burying every thought in her body, losing every emotion in her small cries of pain. 

The cousins looked on with ravenous eyes as Big Boy lost every ounce of his compassion, as he abandoned his humanity and turned his own pain and suffering into the sickening need to inflict that same pain on Annie. For a moment his mind was swept away in the cathartic experience of possessing her body, of using her to turn his suffering outwards and give himself a momentary reprieve before crashing back to the reality that he was trapped in. 

Annie cried out as, with a final shove against her body, Big Boy shuddered and dropped his weight on top of her. His orgasm came hard and fast, evident by the way she felt him twitch inside of her before he slowly pulled himself out of her body and rolled away with a choked sigh. She slowly brought her arms down to cross over her chest, moving to her side as she curled up in a small ball, as if attempting to shield herself from the onslaught of emotions that were quickly crashing down on her. She heard Josiah and Herschel’s laughter as if they were far in the distance, the sound carrying through her consciousness like a soft echo. 

She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on Big Boy’s shaking form through the blur of tears that hadn’t yet fallen. His quiet sobs pierced through the stiff ache of her body, through the pain that seemed to radiate directly through her soul. Annie pushed herself slowly to her knees, she took a deep breath to steady herself as she righted her clothes and used her sleeve to wipe the dirt from the tear tracks on her cheeks. 

The cousins had lost interest in the two of them, laughing and reminiscing as they continued drinking by the campfire. Annie moved quietly, creeping as slowly as possible across the ground, clinging to the shadows in hopes of avoiding catching their attention again. She knelt close to Big Boy and looked down at him, her chest tightened as her gaze roamed over his face and she registered the intensity of the pain in his features. She slid a hand into his hair, pulling him out of his thoughts and bringing his attention to the soft expression in her eyes. 

Their eyes met, hazel connecting with honey, their gazes somehow bright despite the darkness. Annie’s heart wrenched in her chest as she looked deeper into his eyes, she froze for a moment as she looked into deep pools of pain that mirrored her own. For a moment, the rest of the world fell away from them. Their souls clung tightly to each other, grasping desperately at each other’s frayed edges. Their individual suffering mutated into a single wound, a deep gash that spread across the flesh of their beings and linked their horribly similar traumas, anchoring them together in a special agony that neither could ignore. 

Annie felt a tear slide down her cheek, felt the gentle breeze cling to the wet streak it left on her skin as it dropped freely from her face to land at the corner of Big Boy’s mouth, another thread connecting the two of them as they lingered in the moment of numbness.

“I forgive you.”

Big Boy’s eyes went impossibly wide as her gentle words seemed to settle in his mind. She couldn’t bring herself to smile, no matter how much she wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t seem to mind. After a moment of stunned, frozen staring, a moment of forcing himself to believe that her words were real, he turned over and laid his head on her lap, carefully wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close to him as tears flowed freely from his gentle eyes. 

It was impossible to ignore how broken the intimidatingly large man in her lap was, impossible to ignore how - despite his size - Big Boy felt like a small child hiding from a monster under his bed. And perhaps he was, perhaps Josiah was the physical embodiment of all of Big Boy’s childhood fears, reducing him to the helpless child that still hid somewhere in his mind. She bit her lip softly, trying to tamp down the sadness that flooded her as she thought of how much longer Big Boy had been living in this hell than her. She forced herself to stop wondering how much worse he had endured, how much worse he would endure. She forced herself not to acknowledge that being forced to rape her was probably one of Josiah’s kinder games. She forced herself not to let her thoughts spiral into wondering about what Herschel had planned for her. 

He shuddered when she laid her hand gentle on his back, her touch moving in light circles over the layers of scars, bruising, and permanent damage to his muscles. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been touched so softly, the last time a hand had moved over him with any sort of kindness. Even Josiah’s soft touches were laced with cruelty, his hands were incapable of touch that didn’t feel vicious and manipulative. He had grown so used to every softness being traded for pain, he waited, tense and fearful, only to be met with Annie sighing quietly before she started to sing. 

“I would say I’ll see you in the morning,  
But I know all the good will be gone…”

Her voice carried over the campsite, twining with the cracks and pops of the fresh wood that had been tossed in the fire. 

“It is clear you, Sally, have to leave now,  
So I’ll wave goodbye, good heart.” 

Herschel and Josiah fell silent, their laughter dying as they turned their attention to the two fragile, broken people huddled just outside the circle of light provided by the campfire. 

“When the night is slowly sleeping,  
And we come to the final two…”

Big Boy closed his eyes and swallowed a sob, overwhelmed with the graciousness and kindness emanating from the woman he had just violated and abused.

“I hold you close to me, darling,  
And I hope to see you soon.”

Annie fell silent at the end of the short song, surprised at the stillness of the men surrounding her. It seemed to drag on forever, stirring an anxious ache in her chest as her mind flooded with thoughts of what wrath she had incurred by indulging her spontaneous desire to sing Big Boy a lullaby. 

“Damn cuz,” Josiah finally said, his voice uncharacteristically devoid of malice. “I thought calling her songbird was just a pet name. Now I get why you wanted to keep her.”

Annie caught the brief smile that crossed Herschel’s face, a reassuring glimpse of the softer man she knew was somewhere inside of him. He shook his head at Josiah and stood, moving to stand over Annie and Big Boy with his hand extended to her. “Come on my little Songbird.” His voice was tender and wanting, pulling at the strings of Annie’s compassion as she glanced down at Big Boy, still resting on her lap as he refused to look up at Herschel. “Let the mutt spend some time where he belongs, you’ve played with him enough for the day.”

Big Boy squeezed her waist for a moment before letting go, moving out of her lap to allow her to timidly take Herschel’s hand and let him help her to her feet. She followed him into the woods, his grip firm and unyielding, but Annie couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at Big Boy, crawling defeatedly into the light as Josiah purposefully held his hunting knife out of Big Boy’s sight.


	8. Gnocchi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Boy shows Annie a family recipe.
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: lady whumpee, human captivity, mentions of past trauma, food tw, cooking, nonviolent knives mention, whumpees bonding, angsty memories, angsty thoughts of ‘what if’**
> 
> [RECORD: In Too Deep By The Sweeplings](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21z57UphdHc&ab_channel=TheSweeplings-Topic)

Annie sighed as she finished peeling the last potato, setting it to the side for Big Boy to chop into cubes small enough to boil without taking too long. She’d been surprised when he had offered to teach her his mother’s gnocchi recipe, whispering to her that it was an easy meal that Herschel had always seemed to enjoy - an easy meal to keep her in his good graces. He took the potato from her with a small smile, placing his hand over hers for just a moment before chopping it up with the blunted knife.

“It surprises everyone how easy it is to make, such simple ingredients to make something so…homey.” He sighed and dropped the cubed potato into the pot of boiling water, his gaze set on the water like he was watching something that only he could see.

Annie touched his forearm softly, careful to keep her voice quiet in case Herschel was nearby and wanted to reinforce his latest rule of silence unless she was given permission to speak. “I’m homesick too,” she whispered, barely audible over the boiling water and the overhead fan on the stove.

Big Boy looked down at the tiny woman at his side and then to her impossible small, damaged fingers resting on his arm. She didn’t speak much anymore, not compared to when Herschel first started dragging her to Josiah’s kicking and screaming, but it never failed to make his heart ache to hear the sincerity and compassion that carried so strongly in her delicate voice.

He touched the fingers on her hand, featherlight in case they still ached, and nodded. “It gets better with time, you’ll think about it less.”

She swallowed and nodded, pursing her lips to stave off tears. It was still so fresh for her, the memories of home were so vivid and came so often. Big Boy remembered that too well, how much it ached when Josiah first brought him home, how much it stung to remember even the smallest details of home. He hoped that reassuring her that it would get better would offer some comfort, but he hoped even more that she’d find a way out and that she would never need it. He hoped that Annie would find a moment, just one perfect moment where Herschel wasn’t looking, that she’d find her way home and that he would be little more than a memory to her. He hoped that one day she could forget him entirely, that she could forget all of it. But his hope was followed closely by a dark, hollow feeling that it would never be a reality.

Big Boy blinked away his thoughts, reminding himself that Annie was already lonely enough. She didn’t need to be alone even when she was standing beside him.

“For now,” he said, forcing warmth into his voice, “we need a few eggs and some flour. The potatoes will only take a few minutes to get tender enough to mash.”

Annie nodded and gave his arm a small squeeze of solidarity and turned away from him to fetch what he needed. She stood beside him in silence, taking comfort in his gentle, looming presence as they watched the potatoes boil. Despite what had happened on the camping trip, Big Boy was the only person that she felt completely safe with, the only one whose eyes didn’t watch her like a predatory stalking a small animal.

It felt too soon when he started spearing the potatoes with a fork and dropping them in a bowl he had set nearby, but she watched him intently as she memorized every step of the process. She furrowed her brow a bit as he picked the potatoes out of the bowl a few at a time.

“Why not just drain them?”

He shrugged, his lips quirked in a half smile. “My mother always said that there was no point in wasting water. We’ll have to boil another pot if we just drain it.” He smiled at her, his eyes crinkled affectionately at their edges. “I’m sure it’s a habit that my family brought from the old country, from days when they had to haul water to their house from the streams. Some things just stick, I guess.”

She watched him work the fork against the potatoes, mashing them quickly and effectively, as if he’d done it every day of his life. The ease with which he worked with the food made it clear that it had been a large part of his life before Josiah, that cooking was a family event and meant more than just eating. She felt another twinge of sadness as she thought of her own family, how she had grown up cooking with her mother and sisters, the many memories she had in the kitchen of their little house that her father had built with his bare hands beside his church.

“Okay,” Big Boy said, his voice heavy with memories that Annie wished she could see. “I need four cups of sugar and two eggs.”

Annie nodded and handed him the eggs, watching him crack and open each one from the corner of her eye as she measured out the floor and poured each cup into the bowl for him.

She couldn’t help but watch the way he kneaded the dough, the ease with which his hands moved in the bowl with quick, strong movements. Annie glanced up at the subtle smile on his face and wondered what would have happened had they met differently, had this not been their lives. She wondered if they would have still found themselves cooking together, with a different kind of tension hanging between them, if they would have traded stories about their lives and talked about meeting each other’s families, made hypothetical plans for a future together to make each other smile. She wondered if his hands would have touched her differently, strong but gentle, a safe refuge from the stresses of real life rather than the cruelty that had brought them together. She wondered if they would have had a first time that wasn’t a forced ordeal on the forest floor, if he would have held her gently and littered her body with soft kisses that matched his touch. She wondered if the soothing, easy bond that they shared would have existed if not borne of the trauma that they now shared.

Big Boy cleared his throat and Annie snapped out of her thoughts, forced herself back to reality and looked up at him. His brows were knitted with concern and he reached out to brush her cheek with his thumb, neither of them caring about the streak of flour it left over her spatter of freckles and olive skin. Annie felt herself blush slightly and quickly looked away, fear suddenly racing through her at the thought of what either cousin would do if they were to be seen having a moment that was remotely affectionate. 

Big Boy seemed to understand her sudden change of behavior and immediately turned back to the ball of dough that he had laid on the counter. He shook his head slightly and started rolling it into long snakes of dough, weaving it in long s-curves on the counter before cutting it into little half inch pieces. 

“It’s easy from here,” he said softly as he dropped the bite sized pieces of dough into the water that still boiled on the stove. “Just drop them in and wait until they float, then drain the pot and serve them with red sauce.” 

Annie nodded, her eyes tinted with the vague hint of sadness as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You didn’t have to show me how to make your family recipe.” 

Big Boy cast her a smile, genuine and friendly, and shrugged. “Like I said, Herschel loves it and it’s easy for nights that cooking a big meal just isn’t possible for…whatever reason.” The hint in his tone was too obvious to both of them; it was an easy meal for nights when she was too badly beaten or too weak to do more than boil water. 

“Besides,” he said softly, looking back at the pot on the stove. “I won’t be around forever. Maybe this way someone will remember me when I’m gone, some little part of me will still be around.”


	9. Darlin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheyenne gives her cousin Josie a gift.
> 
> **CW: EXPLICIT NONCON, noncon/rape, noncon touching, dehumanization, forced to watch, captivity, aftermath of torture, hunting (not killing this time) humans, mention of confined in a box, sexual violence**
> 
> [RECORD: Fever by The Cramps](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pzh4z_sZys0&ab_channel=GoodbyePilgrim)

“Be a good lil whore and spread yer legs for me. That’s it, Darlin’. Just like that.” 

Jorge felt the tip of the knife drag across the soft skin behind his knee, a silent threat. His newest captor was seated behind him on the brown leather chair, eyeing his new toy with hunger. The tip of his boot nudged the small man’s bruised knees apart even farther. His bloody jeans and grey boxer briefs were pulled down around his knees, the elastic stretched to the max. The ice cold basement chill stung the angry arrow wounds on his back that Josiah promised would ‘heal in no time.’

After being hunted and chased through the dark woods by Cheyenne and Josiah 48 hours prior, Jorge was rechristened “Darlin’” by the demonic cousins. He was shoved bound and gagged into Cheyenne’s granny’s steamer trunk that was far too tight a squeeze but they made it work, greasing Darlin’ up with Crisco from her pantry. Cheyenne’s laughter rang in his ears as she padlocked the trunk shut, Josiah’s devilish grin greeted him upon its opening so many agonizing hours later. His limbs burned as the sensation returned to them. On the brink of exhaustion, Jorge sank into the coffee table he was thrown over and waited for the pain to start again.

“Chey really knows how to spoil me. Usually I can’t pry her rabbits from ‘er. Good thing she picked you up ‘specially for me. Pretty little Darlin’.” Josiah licked his fingertip and traced along the outside of his captive’s hole who immediately bucked and tried to flee from the touch. He dug the knife in slightly, making Darlin’ cry out behind the gag. “I won’t hesitate to cut you, boy.” He closed the knife, tucking it away in his back jeans pocket. Josiah knew he wouldn’t really need it; this one was way too skittish to fight back.

He circled the coffee table, coming to a stop next to Big Boy who knelt at the opposite end facing the new captive. Big Boy’s eyes were downcast, empty and unfocused as he stared into the floor. Josiah yanked the man towards by the chain padlocked around his neck, winding the loosely hanging chain around his fist. The other carded through the kneeling man’s hair, a touch so gentle it caught Jorge off guard. “I think we should welcome Darlin’ to his new home proper. Don’t you think so, Boy?” Josiah felt the kneeling man nod slightly against his stomach where his face was buried. “You know what you need to do, Boy, get on it.” Josiah’s order was low and breathy as he looked down at Big Boy who worked quickly to free him from his jeans despite his right hand that looked nearly useless. Big Boy took the entire length of the larger man’s cock in his mouth, readying it for Darlin’s tight hole. Josiah fucked into his mouth, making him gag. His brawny chest becoming slick with saliva. “That’s good boy. Darlin’ will be thankful ya got it nice and wet for him.” He yanked Darlin’s head up from where he was sobbing into the wood, forcing it upwards to watch. “Aren’t you boy?” Josiah tightened the grip in his hair, forcing him to nod. “This is all his mouth is good for these days.” Josiah pulled his cock out of Big Boy’s mouth, strings of saliva dripped from his lips in its wake. Big Boy’s eyes met the tear filled brown ones in front of him, a look of sorrow washed over his face briefly before the broken man curled back inside himself and turned off the light.

Behind him he heard the crackling of a needle on a vinyl record, a slow bluesy rock song played over the large speakers. The intrusion was sudden. Darlin’s scream was muffled but loud. Josiah pulled him to his chest, placing a hand over his gagged mouth. “Shhh baby shh. Just relax and take it.” Josiah peppered kisses on his neck as he lowered the man onto him, filling him. Fighting down the urge to scream, he whimpered against the calloused hand clamped over his mouth. He was shoved forward back onto his stomach making the air rush out of his lungs. As Jorge struggled to catch his breath, his captor quickened his thrusts. The small man’s hip bones were pressed painfully into the edge of the coffee table as the large man bore into him.

_No one knows how much I love you_

_No one knows how much I care_

_When you put your arms around me_

_I get a fever that’s a-hard to bear_

Josiah lowered himself onto the man below him, snaking an arm underneath him to completely envelop his body. The skin around his zip tied wrists tore at the weight of the man on top of him. “The three of us are going to have lotsa fun together.” Josiah cooed as he nuzzled into the neck of the man he snared beneath him, his thrusts becoming fast and violent. The smell of musky sweat and whiskey filled Jorge’s nostrils as the man that had him pinned down finished inside him. The sudden impact of a fist to his side and the subsequent crunch of bones cracking tore an animalistic sound from Darlin’s throat. 

“Oh Darlin’ I bet yer plumb tired. Well we ain’t even close to being done.” The bound man pressed his face into the wood and sobbed. In a blink Big Boy was dragged away by his chain leash and positioned behind Darlin’ at the end of the coffee table. Josiah settled into the couch beside them with a fresh beer, ready for the show to start. Big Boy stroked himself slowly as he waited for the go ahead from Josiah who was preoccupied taking in the sight of his boys. He turned Darlin’s head towards him, gently laying it back down against the wood and brushing the hair from his face. “Get on with it, Boy.” Darlin’ shook his head and groaned as he felt the tip enter him. “Just relax, Darlin’. We’re just gettin’ started.”


	10. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darlin' and Big Boy share a quiet moment after a round of torture.
> 
> **content warnings: captivity, aftermath of whipping, blood, wound cleaning, dehumanization, mention of being confined in a small space, implied starvation, brief mention of religion.**

“Up. Yeah that’s it,’ Darlin’ spoke gently to the bleeding man twice his size as he led them up the stairs. One agonizing step at a time. The old stairs creak with their weight as they ascend. 

Darlin’ props Big Boy against the doorless entrance to the bathroom and quickly turns on the wall heater. Both men chilled to the bone from having to endure the cold for the last hour while the family tried out Josiah’s new bullwhip on them both, the larger man taking the brunt of the punishment. Just like he had everyday since Darlin’ got pulled out of that cramped steamer trunk.

The coils turn to a blazing red in an instant, easing the shiver of their bones. Darlin’ moves Big Boy towards the bathtub, helping him sit down on the edge. Mindful of the open lash marks on his shoulders. 

“I have to get it the right temperature ok?” He doesn’t expect a response so when Big Boy takes his hand in both of his he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. Tears sting his eyes at the unexpected gesture, wiping them away before crouching down in front of him. Hands still gripping his for dear life, not letting go.

“Hey we have to get you cleaned up while we still have time yeah?” The dark hazel eyes stare at the floor, never meeting his. 

As if on cue he hears the tell-tale creak of the stairs, his hand returning a squeeze in Big Boy’s as the two men wait for whatever pain is heading their way.

A gentle knock on the doorframe announces Songbird’s presence. She’s standing in the doorway with one hand covering her eyes and a small first aid kit in the other. “We’re decent. It’s ok.” She sits the kit down on the sink and hurries over to them, pulling something wrapped in a napkin out of her coat. Two squares of freshly baked cornbread. Songbird is always good about making sure they eat when she’s around. Even if she has to sneak around to do it or leave food in places for Darlin’ to find. 

She hands it to him and places her finger over her mouth in warning. “I know. Thank you for this,” he says as he looks down at it. He’s going to give most of it to Big Boy anyway, he needs to build his strength back up before Josiah runs him ragged choring tomorrow. Like he does everyday. Josiah uses Big Boy as his own personal workhorse. 

Songbird leans in close to Darlin’ and whispers, “Talk to God. He’ll show you the way forward.” His shoulders relax at her voice, a rare comfort given only in stolen moments like these. He admired her absolute faith in God, that it keeps her afloat in this darkness that surrounds them. Darlin’ was once a devout Catholic but now more than ever he feels abandoned by Him.

Herschel calls to Songbird from the bottom of the stairs, telling her it’s time to head home. She stands and gives them a solemn smile, leaving behind her warmth in the form of the still hot cornbread in Darlin’s lap. “We’ll dig into these once I get you cleaned up. Come on,” Darlin’ says to him. He never loses hope that Big Boy will respond, that he’ll show him any sign that there is still a person somewhere beneath the layers of pain and suffering.

He gets the water temperature just right before guiding Big Boy into the tub, turning him so his torn up back is facing the showerhead. He lets Darlin’ move around him and clean his wounds, never once making a sound. The large man dips his head to his knees, taking in the steaming water as it runs down his tattered back and swirls down the drain in a pink cyclone.

A trail of blood makes its way down Darlin’s shoulder. He had completely forgotten about his own injuries in the process of taking care of his protector. He stands and lifts his shirt in the mirror. Three lashes that aren’t too deep. He wouldn’t need stitches, just needed to clean off. 

He shrugs his shirt off the rest of the way and climbs into the tub behind Big Boy. Despite his impressive size, the man feels so small and helpless beneath Darlin’s hands. Like a baby bird fallen from the nest, weak and exposed, at the mercy of the wildlife around him. He rests his forehead on a part of Big Boy’s back that hasn’t been marred by tonight’s demonstration with the whip, simultaneously offering the man solace and strength, and hiding from his reality for just a moment.


	11. Fetch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Bad Things Happen Bingo for "Dehumanization".
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: NONCON/DUBCON touching, NSFW, dehumanization, intimate whumper, snuff tape, sex toys, pet whump, broken whumpee, creepy comfort, anal play, double whumpees, forced nudity, restraints, claustrophobic confinement, alcohol, wound description**

The camera is sitting atop the television in the corner of the basement den. The date reads 05.17.19 on the bottom in the digital white font.

Various old knick knacks and chachkis sit on the farthest side table, a lamp tucked behind them casts a warm yellow light in the room, the only source in the shot. Wood paneling lines the walls with Cherokee artwork in a cluster of frames. The door to the bedroom is shut and a light shining down from the top of the stairs, leaving a rectangle of light at the bottom. The mahogany colored coffee table has been moved out of the way from it’s usual spot in front of the couch and is tucked into the corner just beyond the stairs. Instead there’s Memaw’s old green steamer trunk in its place. 

Josiah is in black pajama pants and nothing else, his random smattering of tattoos on full display. Some look homemade and some look professionally done. He’s lounging comfortably on the old couch with his feet propped up on the trunk. There’s some popcorn in a bowl next to him and a can of PBR wedged in his legs.

Big Boy is in the far left corner almost in the shadows, his forearms are belted to his biceps and his ankles to his thighs. The odd restraints force him to walk on his knees and elbows awkwardly. There are ghastly deep purple welts marking the backs of his thighs and bottom. The worst looking ones are crusted over with blood that will surely be more scars to add to the collection spread across his body.

He eventually fishes a blue rubber dog bone out of the corner of the basement next to an unorganized stack of vinyls by the record player cabinet. The toy makes little squeaks between his teeth as he lumbers back over to the couch and tosses it onto Josiah’s lap.

“That’s a good boy.” Josiah ruffles Big Boy’s hair fondly, his locks are shaggier than can be seen in previous recordings. The burly man on the floor melts into the touch and whines when the touch is gone too soon. Big Boy lays his head on the couch and waits patiently for the gentle petting to return. Josiah chuckles at the man at his feet, needy for his touch.

There’s a sound that is almost too faint for the camera to pick up but causes visible irritation in Josiah who kicks the top of the trunk lid with the heel of his foot. Big Boy flinches at the sudden loud noise and sits back on his heels. There's a muffled cry from inside the old green steamer trunk. It’s the same one Darlin' was shoved into at Cheyenne's and brought home in, kept in whenever Josiah deems it a necessary punishment.

“You said ya didn’t wanna play! It's too late now to change yer mind.” Big Boy shrinks at Josiah’s voice raising to a shout until Josiah ruffles his hair again and puts him at ease. Big Boy looks up at him, his intently bright hazel eyes switching back from him to the box, silently begging the man to let the trapped man out.

“Ah-ah. I’m not fallin’ for that face again. I ain’t that easy. Now go on and git it!” Josiah throws the squeaky bone to the other side of the room a few more times, sending the big man chasing after it until he’s got a sheen of sweat covering his bulky nude form. Finally he gets it but doesn’t return it to Josiah, staying in the corner and staring back at him, not moving an inch.

“Come on now. Don’ be like that. If ya bring it back I got a little treat fer ya.” The attempt to lure him back over sounds abnormally singsong coming from the giant ginger man with the husky drawl sprawled on the couch. 

Big Boy continues to stubbornly sit still across the room, shaking his head slightly while he stares at the carpet, not daring to look up like a bad dog who had just gotten into the trash and was trying to look innocent. This would look like an innocent game between dog and owner if the dog wasn't a man beaten down from years of brutality, games and violations.

Josiah puts the empty beer can on the side table to the right just outside of the frame and takes his feet off the trunk. When he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, Big Boy cowers a bit and scoots back into the corner. The two men stare at each other until it seems an idea comes to Josiah who grins mischievously at the hobbled man. “What if I let yer lil friend out to see what I got ya?” 

The offer is far too good to resist. Big Boy scurries back over quickly before Josiah finishes, jumping at the chance to free his friend from the tight confined space. The blue rubber dog toy falls from Big Boy’s mouth and rolls under the couch, now just an afterthought. 

Josiah takes a small key from the silver chain around his neck and unlatches the trunk, flipping the lid open and yanking a bound and gagged Darlin' from it by the shoulders. He's barely clothed, just a pair of black boxer shorts and matching tape gag muffling his whimpering. His flushed cheeks are slick with tear tracks and there's a big chunk of hair shaved on the side of his head where a large gash has been closed haphazardly with thick black sutures. Blood new and old surrounds the haphazard wound care, his dark locks are damp with sweat.

He’s dropped onto the pink carpet chest first, eliciting a harsh groan from him. The small man’s arms are zip tied behind him at the wrists and elbows, making him unable to brace his fall. Darlin’ lays flat on the floor for a moment, stretching his legs that were cramped from an undetermined amount of time in a box not intended for human storage.

Darlin’ pulls himself onto his knees next to the larger man, the soreness in his body still apparent in the stiff way he moves. Big Boy leans down and touches his forehead to Darlin’s, the gesture is quick and done discreetly while Josiah reaches for something on the side of the couch that’s just out of view of the camera. When he leans back into frame there’s a small unopened cardboard box, something clearly ordered from the internet. 

Josiah uses a switchblade to slice open the packing tape and retrieve the object inside, a black rubber dog tail butt plug in one of those impossible to open hard plastic packaging. Once Big Boy sees it he stares at the floor, his demeanor shifts from grateful to terrified of the 'treat' he's being given. It's base is wide, not a beginner's toy in the slightest. 

Once the packaging is just plastic shreds, Josiah snaps his fingers to get Big Boys attention and pats his lap. When hesitates again, his captor is less amused by his defiance.

"You best not make me ask again, mutt. I can put him right back in and leave his ass in there."

It's an awkward climb but Big Boy obeys and positions himself across Josiah's lap. His thighs are pushed apart, exposing him to the intrusive view of the camera lens pointed at the trio. 

"Come up here, Darlin'. I need your help with something." Josiah pats the empty space next to them where Big Boy's head is facing away from the camera. Darlin' clambers up to the couch quickly, trying to sit as far away as he can from the pair to no avail. Josiah’s limbs easily reach him and he unwraps the electrical tape from around Darlin’s head. Leaving him to spit out the rag stuffed in his mouth himself. 

Darlin' looks relieved to be able to take big breaths without the hindrance of a gag but looks at the scene with apprehension, afraid of what the gag being taken off means. 

"You can relax, boy. I just need to use your mouth a lil bit." Darlin’s eyes go wide at the statement and starts to plead with him before Josiah shoves the plug end of the tail into his mouth. "Keep ‘hold of that so it gets nice and wet now. That's it." It takes a moment before the saliva builds up and Darlin' begins to drool around it. "The mutt is gonna need all the help he can gettin' his tail in proper so you better do a good job." Darlin' briefly makes eye contact with the Big Boy before he squeezes his eyes shut, as if he could make himself disappear entirely from this place and this moment.

Josiah tilts Darlin’s head toward the lamp in an effort to see his dirty work more clearly. "Maybe we'll clean this up in the mornin'. It's startin' to look a little too ripe I reckon." He comments when he notices how nasty the wound looks while taking the toy out of Darlin's mouth, satisfied with how wet he's made it. All while working Big Boy's hole open with his free hand. The smaller man nods wearily before muttering a thank you.

It takes some effort but Josiah is able to work the plug in place before he sends Big Boy back to the floor. Darlin’ looks away from the sight below, Big Boy being made to crawl like a dog on his bruised knees and elbows. The black rubber tail wags back and forth in between his cheeks as he moves and there’s serious carpet burn developing on his unprotected knees and elbows.

After he fishes the toy bone out from under the couch and gets to fully admire the look of his pup waiting to continue fetching for him, Josiah smiles down at his broken plaything and throws the bone again. The tail swings back and forth as Big Boy goes after it, amusing Josiah to no end. 

“Come over ‘ere and git comfortable.” Josiah gestures for Darlin’ to scoot towards him, who makes it halfway to him before the larger man impatiently pulls him the rest of the way and lays him on his side so his head is resting in his lap. Darlin’ closes his eyes and drifts off while Josiah lazily plays with his hair, still careful enough not to disturb his head wound. The creeping thunderstorm and Darlin’s light snores are the only sounds that can be heard on the video while the quiet game of fetch continues until the tape runs out.


	12. Sycamore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songbird visits Big Boy's resting place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Mentions of death, mourning loved one, human captivity, finding comfort after loss

Songbird sighed softly as she made her way to the far corner of Josiah’s yard. The sun settled on her olive skin in a layer of warm tingles, paired perfectly with the gentle breeze that swept through her auburn curls and ruffled the light fabric of her dress. Every now and then she felt the urge to make her way to where his body was buried beneath the lush grass, Songbird expected to feel the pain and sadness of his loss as she crossed the yard. But somehow a visit to Big Boy’s final resting place always soothed her nerves and made her smile just as easily as he had while he was still with them.

The sycamore tree was growing far faster than any of them expected, already almost as tall as she was despite having been planted as a sapling just over a year ago. Songbird thought it’s impressive size was fitting, considering that it was planted over the gentle giant and, in theory, had a little bit of his soul in every inch that it grew. She ran her fingers over the young tree and smiled at how smooth the bark was. It was gentle, just like Big Boy, and soft to the touch no matter how rough it looked as it grew. 

She sat down in the grass and pressed her palm to the earth, closing her eyes for a moment as she felt the earth breathe beneath her. It was easy to feel the depth of his loss, to lose herself in the empty space that he left in her life. But when she sat beside the grass that grew just a little greener and closed her eyes, Songbird could still feel him as if he was standing beside her. She could still feel his comforting smile and reassuring gaze, the way he stood protectively over her shoulder anytime he was close by. 

She sat in the grass, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and she could always feel Big Boy sitting beside her. 


	13. H.J.B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herschel and Josiah break in Herschel's new brass knuckles.
> 
> **cw: blood, broken bones, bruises, face trauma, violence, torture, beaten with brass knuckles, brief implied noncon, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, captivity, noncon touching (nonsexual), restraints, talk of wound cleaning, open wound mention, threats of violence, knives, brief death mention**

Cheyenne’s laughter makes Darlin’ cringe. 

_How can someone take so much enjoyment in this?_

The pair are posted up together on the porch swing, watching a brutal scene unfold across the yard. Darlin is tangled up in her limbs like a calf roped into submission for sport at a county rodeo. No choice but to lay against her with the layers of duct tape around his arms and mouth keeping him easily controlled and silent. 

She plucks a tiny flower from the basket beside her and places it with the others already in his shoulder length dark hair. The flowers were picked by Songbird especially for Cheyenne while on the way to Josiah’s after leaving church. He wonders if Songbird knows her innocent gift is being used for something so sinisterly invasive.

The boys have Big Boy tied to the big oak tree, his arms are stretched around the tree by coarse rope. Surely tearing open his always irritated wrists. There was never enough antiseptic in the house to treat them and they never healed enough that Darlin’ didn’t worry about infection.

They’re taking turns with Herschel’s new knuckleduster. A birthday present from Josiah he engraved with Herschel’s initials. The ‘H.J.B.’ was etched deep into the metal, the grooves were sure to collect blood and prove impossible to clean entirely. 

The tree is too far away for Darlin to make out what state his only friend is in. All he can make out is the cascade of blood down the front of Big Boy’s body. It was the first punch that broke his nose, causing him to emit a sound like a wild animal in agony before coughing up the blood running down his throat. Now, it was impossible to tell if the blood flowed from his nose, from his busted lip, from somewhere deeper in his mouth or if they’d ruptured something in his stomach with their seemingly endless barrage of punches to the gut. Darlin’ could hear his breath catch with pain, sure that if they landed another hit to the ribs they would puncture a lung. 

“It’s gonna be your turn next you know. I’ve seen ‘em go all night when they get new toys,” Cheyenne says as she looks at the empty basket and pouts. Immediately cheering up when she pulls the knife out she keeps in her boot and begins to twirl it.

Darlin’ shudders against her. He’s very familiar with just how sharp she keeps her weapons. The stainless steel glints in the sunlight, momentarily blinding him as he wonders if she keeps it cleaner than Josiah keeps his. 

“Oh no! Guess you get off easy today, little bunny. Looks like they tired themselves out already.”

He looks back over just in time to see Big Boy released from the tree and dragged by the duo back to the house. His ragged moans carry across the yard, reminiscent of a small animal being toyed with by a hungry wolf. 

A total mess of blood and angry newly forming bruises starting to form, he’s completely limp as they drag him up the small set of wooden stairs. The back of his head smacks each step as they go up. They leave him sprawled out by the back door before wiping off their boots on the mat and entering the house. 

Cheyenne pushes Darlin’ to stand, walking him to follow the men into the house. Leaving Big Boy behind to wheeze and bleed on the weathered wood porch alone. 

Darlin’ is able to look back and catch a glimpse of his battered friend before being shoved inside. 

He looked dead. His hairy blood slicked chest was barely moving. Cheyenne pushes him too fast for him to get a better look, to estimate how badly damaged his ribs and lungs must have been. 

He’d have to beg Josiah to help him. He’d have to get down on his knees and beg for Big Boy’s life again, earning Josiah’s mercy.

_Just hold on for me, buddy. Please hold on._


End file.
